Freshman Year
by Colt Mason
Summary: A quick one-off that I published for nytegale here on FF. She owns secondary rights to the published material.


Lt. Col. Colt Mason

February 19th, 09 ALW

Time: 09:27.30 : Est. Cornerian Time

Freshman Year

I didn't think much of the academy the first few weeks I was there. The people seem friendly, though I haven't found anyone to talk to yet. Though, the teachers are relatively reasonable, more than I previously thought. The drill sergeants aren't that bad when we do PT, of course, with my dad yelling insults at me, I've already built up the resistance to their jeers. The main problem in this academy, are the delinquent cliques. The delinquents by themselves, like Wolf O'Donnell (Who was rumored to have killed someone last year) were relatively quiet and kept to themselves. The problems started to rise when the bullies found cronies to hang around. Let me just say, for the record, thank God for Tae Kwon Do. I was on my way to one of my classes. I was just outside of the library, when Brent Dillinger and his cronies decided to do a little bit of intimidation. Brent was a stocky bulldog about two years from graduating. He was training to be infantry on frontline. Palling around with him was a blue jay, a large lynx, and a German Sheppard. I'll be honest, the sons of a bitches were tough, but I was skilled. I walked past Brent one day and he yelled what dumb jock bullies usually yell: "Hey Faggot!" and threw a bottle of water at me. I must be reminded to thank my father for his dexterity, as I had evaded the bottle. Finding that their first offensive was unsuccessful, they circled me like vultures, taunting me and picking at me. Being the mild-mannered kid on the outside, my inner demons were screaming at me to put all of that Tae Kwon Do to good use. Being used to verbal abuse, I attempted to just walk away, but the bastards were assertive, the stopped me in my tracks, getting closer to me, they shoved me back once. I was unfazed for a moment before I decided to retaliate. Brent attempted to shove me back again, but not before I swept his arms away and shoved him back. He was ready to step up again, but not before counselor Peppy Hare had stepped in to stop the fight, his young trainee and counselor-in-training, James McCloud standing next to him, nearly matching Peppy in height.

"Cadets!" Peppy announced. "Just what do you two think you're doing?" Being the smartass I was at the time, I snidely remarked.

"Just figuring out who the first people to get killed out in the field will be, sir." My father made it a rule to never argue with an asshole. As nice as Peppy usually was, I wasn't in the mood for it at the moment. So no matter what, I always added the 'sir' on there, just to sweeten it up a little. James, being the goody-goody he was at the time decided to break the rather hostile atmosphere.

"You should really be more respectful to the people around you." James looked up, gesturing to the three other random cronies of Dillinger. "One of these men might save your life one day." Damn my smartass.

"Then again, one of them won't." The surrounding cadets who were surveying what was happening began to laugh. This boosted my confidence, as well as my smartass.

"You better watch that smart mouth, cadet." Peppy said, stepping forward to tower over me.

"I'm glad someone thinks I'm that intelligent." More laughter erupted from the crowd around me. Peppy sighed with his face in his hand.

"I didn't mean that."

"Well, can I take it as a compliment anyway, sir?" More laughter broke out, as Peppy was just making this too easy. The four jocks stood there, arms crossed. James then chimed in.

"No, you can't." He stepped over to me. "Listen cadet. That smart mouth is probably the same thing that got you in this situation in the first place. I suggest that you hold your tongue, and leave these boys to their business." I nodded.

"Yes sir." As I began to step away, I heard Peppy shout to the crowd that had gathered.

"Don't you all have classes to be at?" The crowd had dispersed within seconds as I had left. Seems I was lucky that day, but not the next day. Same routine, vultures picking at their prey. The crowd had gotten rather formidable, yet today I haven't seen James or Peppy intervene. Finally, at my wits end...

...I turned and left.

Anticlimactic? Sure, but I was outnumbered four to one. Assessing the odds and my lack of superior height and strength, I was at an overwhelming disadvantage. That is, until on my way out of the crowd, some jeering and nagging as I left, I saw Wolf O'Donnell, standing there like a statue. Just as I passed by him on the outer rim of the crowd, he said something to me. It was all it took to make me do something. He turned his head slightly and said:

"You're not going to take that, are you?" I stopped.

Was I? No. I've taken too much shit back when I was a kid back in Corel County Province. I wasn't having it, and they wouldn't make me. Slowly, I turned to see him, about a head taller than me at the time, his shadow looming over me in an empowering manner. I took my academy uniform jacket off and handed it to Wolf.

"Hold this for a moment, would you?" I asked. A venomous tinge to my voice as my blood boiled from countless others who have shunned me in the past. O'Donnell smirked and lifted the jacket from my arms. He was instigating, and I knew it. He wanted to see what I was capable of. He wanted to see if I was worthy of his presence.

So I delivered...

I stepped back into the crowd, my arms flexed in anger with years of splitting logs and other manual labor and construction work that had been a chore back home. My legs widened into an "L" stance, distributing my balance on my back leg, making it easier to lift my front leg. My arms remain near my sides as I clenched my fists in rage. As my eyes narrowed, I planned. I calculated. I knew what I had to do.

"So, the pup decides to come for his rightful beating, did he?" Dillinger and his cronies chuckled darkly. "Well then, let's show him what for!" Just before his little clique decided to take a step forward, I put my hand up. The four jocks stopped in their tracks. I raised my head up, and spoke freely, regardless if they'd have wanted to hear me or not.

"Yo dickhead." I piped up, the crowd hushed as the words left my mouth. "Listen, you want to prove you can be a 'man', right?" I put some extra emphasis on 'man' as if I was questioning it. "Why don't you leave your little hold-and-punch bastards out of this and fight me mono-y-mono?" The three of Dillinger's cronies glanced around, then looked at their boss. Brent motioned for his boys to step off as the crowd waited in anticipation. Surely they all thought: _This scrawny, little husky can't possibly beat someone who's four years older than him._

How wrong those idiots were...

I got into a formal fighting stance. My right arm back by my chest, my left out in front. He put up his hands in the traditional street-fighting wannabe MMA position. Both hands in front of his face. I smiled. _Hah! His damn hands are in his way! He'll never see me coming!_ We circled the ring of the crowd, preparing ourselves for the fight. Naturally, the impatient jock was first to strike, charging at me like a bull. I knew his play. He was going to take me out from the legs. I snorted mockingly. My timing was impeccable. I raised up my knee, driving it straight into his nose. Blood spurted out from it as he stumbled back, dazed. His nose was bent slightly to the right.

"You'll pay for that you little bastard!" He growled through a bloody face. At that moment, his three others jumped into the fight.

"Oh for God's sake." I grumbled, frustrated. As his Sheppard crony charged toward me, he raised his fist back, throwing an overhand hook. I swiftly brought my arm up, stopping him in his tracks. I delivered a swift punch to the side of his jaw. He brought his punching hand down as he attempted to block other incoming punches. The problem with that, was I had stopped assaulting his face and instead had began to pummel his sides with a series of kicks. Attempting to hold up a combination of attacks and a steady offensive. When I had the Sheppard on the edge, I leapt up and delivered a flying side-kick to his face. He stumbled back and landed in the crowd with a loud 'thud'. He recoiled in pain as I turned around to face the other of Dillinger's cronies. The Blue Jay stepped up next. He was tall, he was fast, but he was surprisingly weak. I was able to block two of his feather-light punches with no difficulty. The third punch, I swiped away and led with a reverse punch to the front of his beak, leaping up to deliver a half-turning kick, throwing him to the side in a heap of blood and feathers.

The lynx was last to step up. He was strong, nimble, but extraordinarily slow- Not to mention a bit of an imbecile. He left with a hard right hook. I just barely dodged it, but not to be met with a savage kick to my stomach. I had the wind knocked out of me, but I wasn't down yet. The lynx stepped forward with his right hook attempting to finish me off. I recovered quickly, with barely enough time to block. I swiped his fist across his chest with a well-timed hook block. I led with a backhand to his nose, stunning him. With nothing left to lose, I leapt up to about where his chin was and threw both legs forward, smashing my feet into his jaw and chin. The lynx stumbled back, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. I slowly recovered, huffing lightly from the effort exerted. Just then, I noticed Dillinger attempting to make a run for it. He staggered up from where he was. His back was against the wall of people watching us. I then thrust my foot forward, taking him down. As a finish, I spun around, lifted my leg above my head and landed a solid back-axe kick on his stomach. Dillinger coughed a little bit before flopping on the ground with a whimper. I spat on the ground next to him. The crowd cheered as I had secured my victory. I took no notice, heading straight for O'Donnell who, of course; was still there, holding my jacket. He outstretched his arm with my jacket in hand. I swiped it from his hands without a care. What shocked me was that he turned to walk to class with me.

"That was some fighting." He had said. "What's your name?" I smiled lightly, I had finally made a friend here.

"Mason. Colt Mason. And you might be?"

"O'Donnell. Wolf O'Donnell. You probably heard some rumors about me."

"I'm assuming they're true?"

"Unfortunately, they are actually." I think he was completely blown away by what I said next.

"I don't blame you."

"Wait... what?" He stopped almost completely.

"I don't blame you. You were defending yourself, just like I was. In the face of danger and nowhere to run, what else does a man have, than his own animalistic methods of defense." He smirked, not one other person here had shown as much cleverness or wisdom than this young husky. "Hey, how's about joining my pals and I for lunch." Wolf raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know they'll not treat me like a freak?" Mason chuckled.

"Compared to the bunch of bastards I hang with, you'll fit in like the misfit toys we are." _Oh God, what'd I get myself into now?_ Wolf thought in a mix of irritation and annoyance. This husky was an odd one, but at least willing to befriend him. _Oh what the hell?_ Wolf though. _It's just one lunch._


End file.
